


Compromise

by Ebyru



Series: Blood Red and Cyan-Eyed [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Claiming, Full Moon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marking, Multi, Other, Pack Dynamics, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Whump, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebyru/pseuds/Ebyru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson stumbles upon Derek during the full moon. Derek doesn’t trust Jackson, but Scott won’t let Derek harm him. Scott makes a deal with Derek.</p><p>"It feels so nice to have Jackson’s body snug against his own, breathing in that foreign scent of his that makes Scott’s mouth water. His nerves tingle where his fingertips trace patterns on bare skin. Jackson isn’t healing fast enough to let go. Jackson’s head lolls on his shoulder, and Scott doesn’t hesitate to kiss the side of his neck. He smells like honey today."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compromise

**Author's Note:**

> sorry, this un-beta'd again. AND VERY LATE. ;-; School got in the way.  
> if you see any terrible mistakes, please let me know. If you'd like to be my beta, that would be great also.  
> and thank you so much to anyone who reads this, or who was patient enough to wait for the next part.

Jackson wakes from a trance for the third time today. It’s been happening more often. It’s as though his brain’s being switched on and off, and there’s no way this can continue. No one could live this way. He has to break out of this, regain the missing memories (even if they’re unpleasant, and they probably will be), and get away from his master – whoever he is. Then, maybe after all that, he can start to repent.  
  
Redemption is a long, lonely road, but Jackson would rather face the facts than be blind and exhausted for the rest of his miserable life.   
  
Since he hasn’t heard from Scott or Stiles lately, he assumes they haven’t had any luck with finding a way to fix the situation yet. It’s all up to him now, isn’t it? Luckily, he’s lucid enough today to figure out where he can find help. He just hopes that person is willing to give him some.  
  
It’s not like they’ve ever gotten along.  
  
But maybe if he can swear his loyalty to Derek, offer up whatever clues about his master that he can recall…Maybe _then_ Derek will want to help him break free.  
  
\---  
  
Jackson sways when he steps out of his car. There’s a low hum in the pit of his stomach that tugs him towards Derek without his conscious effort. Whatever has happened to him, there’s still a part that responds to the strongest of the pack: the Alpha.   
  
Stumbling around is not usually Jackson’s thing, but the strain that’s being put on his body is worse lately; he barely sleeps during the night. He’s aware of that without having to know where he went and who sent him there.   
  
There’s just a few steps left before Jackson can reach the entrance to the old subway station, but he stumbles again. There’s nothing around for him to grab on to, so he falls against the ground, knees both a mess of dirt and grass. Derek is out of the hole in the ground before Jackson can get back on his feet.  
  
“Get out of here, Jackson,” Derek spits, dragging Jackson up by the collar and pushing him back. Jackson trips over dirt and catches his footing at the last second.  
  
“I- I need your help. Please,” he begs, swaying on his feet like an alcoholic.  
  
Derek stalks up to Jackson, breathing hot air across Jackson’s cheekbones. “The real you wouldn’t even consider coming here. You’re being sent here. And I don’t like that. Get away before I hurt you, Jackson.”  
  
On a good day, Derek wouldn’t want to help Jackson. He’s whiny and persistent, and sure he works hard, but it’s always for a gain that can only satisfy himself. Derek has never been a selfish teenager, because he’s never had the opportunity to be. There was always someone else to look after. Some task that took precedence over his happiness. Just like tonight: his pack are preparing for the full moon.   
  
And isn’t it just _convenient_ that Jackson’s here too.  
  
Jackson swallows with a click, eyes downcast. “I asked Stiles and Scott first, but they haven’t been able to help me.” He looks up into Derek’s eyes, holding his gaze. “Please. You helped make me into this.”  
  
“ _You_ wanted this. Remember that? You begged for it, threatened, even tried to trick me into biting you. You – wanted – this.” Derek pushes Jackson away, and not kindly. “The outside just matches the inside now.”  
  
Jackson lands on his knees again, shuffling forward to grasp at Derek’s jeans. “Please, Derek. I have nowhere else to go. You can’t just leave me like this. I’ll help you kill my master. Anything!”  
  
Derek snarls, grabbing Jackson by the shirt sleeve. Without glancing down at the sobbing mess below, Derek drags him towards his car, and drops him there. “Go, now.”  
  
Jackson moves toward Derek, and Derek doesn’t hesitate to slam his knuckles against the flesh of his cheek. His teeth take most of the impact. Jackson reels back, but refuses to leave. Derek hits him again; his eye this time. The pleading doesn’t end, though, so Derek drives his fist into Jackson’s face again. And then again. Until his claws extend on their own, and Derek comes back with a palm full of blood. Jackson still clings to Derek’s legs. Derek cracks his knuckles.  
  
But what Derek doesn’t know is that there’s no chance Jackson will give up. His mind is set on becoming the Alpha’s bitch, if he must, just to get away from his master. And if Derek kills him, well --  
  
\---  
Last night, Derek had asked Scott to come to the train station. He had said he needed an extra hand in case the Betas were more than Derek could handle.   
  
Scott rode his bike all the way here, and he wishes he hadn’t now. The sight he’s greeted with is, frankly, disturbing. Jackson is more or less lying on the ground, clutching at his ribs, covering one eye where claw marks peek underneath his hand, and begging for his life.  
  
Derek’s arm is reeling back, and Scott knows what will happen if he doesn’t stop the Alpha.   
  
Kicking up grass and dirt, Scott is by Jackson’s crumpled form in seconds. And, fortunately, Derek’s reflexes are fast enough that his fist doesn’t break Scott’s jaw. The lessened impact still hurts, though. Scott rubs at his jaw idly with his arm outstretched to keep Derek from further damaging Jackson.   
  
An Alpha is the only one who can prevent Betas from healing as quickly, and Jackson will probably die if Derek goes on.  
  
Derek is not impressed. “Why did you--”  
  
“I’ll join the pack,” Scott blurts.   
  
Derek’s eyes go wide, then narrow to red slits. “You’ll join?”  
  
Scott nods fervently, reaching behind himself to wrap his fingers around Jackson’s wrist. His pulse is very slow. “And I’ll bring Allison and Stiles with me.”  
  
“There’s a catch, I’m guessing,” remarks Derek dryly, crossing his arms. He takes a few steps back, so Scott can stand up.  
  
Scott’s gaze is defiant, and his voice doesn’t falter when he says, “You have to let Jackson live.”  
  
Derek sighs, looking away. His jaw twitches. “You know what he--”  
  
“I know. But I promised him I would find his master and get him free, Derek. I _am_ going to do that.”   
  
He turns to look down at Jackson. One eye is beginning to swell, but Scott can see the other one shining with an innocent blue that makes Scott want to carry him off somewhere far, where he’d never be hurt like this again. Jackson reaches out a shaking hand to touch Scott’s ankle. There’s almost a smile on his face.  
  
Derek grumbles, pushing his finger in Scott’s face when he turns to face him. “You better do it soon or I _will_ kill him next time.” He walks away, not looking back to add, “I’ll be with the Betas.”  
  
\---  
  
There’s nowhere they can go right now since Scott doesn’t want to move Jackson too far away with all of his injuries. Pressing his back to Jackson’s car, Scott spreads his legs and pulls Jackson in between them. Back to chest, he checks Jackson’s scratches and bruises – avoiding the rib he knows is probably cracked.   
  
Wincing, Jackson lets his head fall back on Scott’s shoulder. His eyes open slowly when Scott’s fingers trail down Jackson’s arm, gently tracing the veins in his wrist. It feels oddly…intimate.  
  
“Thank you,” Jackson says after too long of a silence. Scott hums in acknowledgment, drawing Jackson in closer, twining his fingers with Jackson’s. There’s a content sigh that neither of them can pinpoint the source of. They drift in and out of a doze where Jackson whimpers and Scott presses his lips to his shoulder to calm him down.  
  
This isn’t exactly the kind of full moon Scott is used to; somehow, Jackson’s presence is keeping him from becoming a hungry predator.  
  
Too bad the same can’t be said for the Betas down in the station.   
  
From where Jackson and Scott sit, nuzzled together, they can hear the Betas howling and ignoring Derek’s commands. The growling gets louder, more ferocious, and alarmingly clear. They’re very close to escaping.  
  
Scott knows he should help, since he promised to, but that was before. Before Jackson was clinging to him desperately. Before Derek decided he was going to erase the ‘abomination’. Before Scott had his arms wrapped around a strong body that turned so pliant against him. He can’t leave Jackson now.  
  
It feels so nice to have Jackson’s body snug against his own, breathing in that foreign scent of his that makes Scott’s mouth water. His nerves tingle where his fingertips trace patterns on bare skin. Jackson isn’t healing fast enough to let go. Jackson’s head lolls on his shoulder, and Scott doesn’t hesitate to kiss the side of his neck. He smells like honey today.  
  
The sound of a body rolling down the stairs wakes Scott from his pleasant thoughts. He bends a knee in case he has to jump up, and run after a Beta – they might have pushed Derek down the stairs. Jackson watches Scott’s eyes flicker between colours; he tenses.  
  
Someone does appear, but his eyes are his natural blue when he jogs over to the car.   
  
Isaac’s turning Jackson’s face left and right; Scott presses his face into Jackson’s neck, humming to keep him calm.  
  
“I could smell Jackson from downstairs,” Isaac starts saying, his voice a soothing flow of sounds. “I got worried when I noticed something was off with his scent. Derek wouldn’t let me go.” He scoffs. “He thought I wanted to run away and kill someone.”  
  
Scott nods, stroking each of Jackson’s knuckles. He stops abruptly; his eyes go wide. “Did you push Derek down the stairs?”  
  
“No, that was an accident. He was pulling at my shirt and I yanked away.” Isaac laughs, sliding his thumb along Jackson’s black and blue jawline. “I see he deserved it anyway.”  
  
Scott buries his face in the nape of Jackson’s neck, sniffing to see if his body is doing any better. Jackson whimpers when Isaac presses too hard, but his gaze is soft when he looks up. “You came to check up on me?”  
  
Isaac tilts his head, crouching down at eye level. “I did.” He smiles.  
  
Jackson nods. “Are you staying out here with us?”  
  
“No, I should probably go help Derek with the Betas.”   
  
Scott looks up as Isaac stands. “Sorry, that was supposed to be my job.”  
  
“Well, now you have this one.” Isaac ruffles Jackson’s hair, laughing when Jackson glares with one eye. The other is still too swollen to do much in the intimidation department.  
  
“See you later,” Isaac calls as he goes back down into the station.  
  
Jackson squirms a bit when Scott squeezes too tightly around him, but settles when Scott’s teeth drag in a playful manner against his pulse. “I’m not dying, you know. You don’t have to hold on to me like I’m going to bleed out.”  
  
“I know.” Scott presses his palms flat to Jackson’s chest, careful to go around the broken rib.  
  
\---  
  
Derek allows himself a break, and goes back out to where Scott is wrapped around Jackson protectively. And …Jackson doesn’t seem to be healing. Alpha powers, he forgot.   
  
Walking toward them in the least aggressive manner he can – which still makes Scott tighten his hold on Jackson – Derek offers Jackson a hand. “You can come inside. There’s a free room, away from the Betas.”   
  
Scott bares his teeth briefly, but Jackson takes Derek’s hand with a curt nod. “I appreciate it,” he says.  
  
Helping Jackson stand with a hand on the small of his back, Scott says, “You better not hurt him again after the deal we made.”  
  
“I don’t go back on my word,” Derek says, his brows a thick line of disapproval. He looks Jackson up and down once. Scott glares at Derek, wrapping an arm around Jackson’s waist. “Follow me,” Derek says after scoffing.”  
  
\---  
  
They’re in a back room that looks almost decent in comparison to the rest of the broken, old station. It has a sofa, a floor rug and a table with barely any scraps on the surface; they’re probably all things that Derek found or bought from a used store.  
  
Scott watches closely as Derek leaves the room to return to the Betas, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Jackson chuckles, holding his more injured side when it twinges in pain. “Don’t act like a mother hen,” he says, “It’s going to kill me with laughter, McCall.”  
  
Ignoring the comment, Scott walks Jackson over to the couch and settles against a cushion on one end, stretching out his legs in invitation. “This works, right?” he says. “You seemed to be comfortable outside.”  
  
“Are you serious?” Jackson asks, hobbling closer anyway.  
  
Scott smiles widely, teeth a brilliant flash of white. “Come here so I can take care of you.”  
  
Jackson slowly bends down, sitting on the edge of the couch; Scott forces him back between his legs, both of their legs tangled and stretched across the cushions. Scott buries his face in Jackson’s neck, nibbling despite Jackson’s attempts at pulling away. They both know it’s just an act.   
  
“This is embarrassing,” Jackson says, tilting his head to the side as Scott drags his bottom teeth across his shoulder. “Who would have thought I’d be saved by Scott McCall.”  
  
Licking a wet stripe up Jackson’s neck, Scott presses his fingers into Jackson’s wrists, holding him firmly in place. Their knees bump when Jackson tries to shift away again. “I’m not going to let Derek hurt you again,” whispers Scott. “I won’t leave until you’re feeling better either.”  
  
Jackson tenses for a moment when Scott kisses his throat near an open wound, but hums when he realizes how much better it feels. “Do that…do that again,” he murmurs, closing his eyes.  
  
Scott laps his tongue over the blood, watching the ebb of it. The skin seems to be reattaching in slow pulses; fluctuations like the flutter of Jackson’s lashes when Scott nips his earlobe. Jackson hums, pressing his back against Scott’s chest, his nails searching for something to hold on to.  
  
“Feeling better?” Scott asks. He takes Jacksons hand in his, twining their fingers. Jackson squeezes tighter every time Scott’s tongue leaves a sheen across bruised and broken skin. He mirrors Jackson’s mood, closing his eyes to savour the scent of Jackson as he recuperates and writhes in Scott’s lap.   
  
“Thank you,” Jackson says suddenly, his lashes lowered almost shyly.  
  
Scott’s eyes snap open. “It- it was – you’re welcome.”   
  
Jackson grins, tilting his head back for more cleansing. “You can continue,” he teases.  
  
Pressing his chest closer, Scott nods, and turns Jackson’s face towards him. “I will,” he says, pulling Jackson’s lips into his mouth, erasing dried blood with each swipe of his tongue. “And you’re not going anywhere.” His fangs peek out slowly, called forth by the smell and taste of what’s inside Jackson.  
  
He lets one of Jackson’s hands go to hold his neck in place, keep his mouth right where he wants it; the hole from before is nothing but a scratch now. The more they bond, the smaller the wounds get. Scott keeps petting and kissing him, touching him around each scar Derek left behind.   
  
The ones on his ribs sting at times, so Jackson hisses, teeth digging in to Scott’s tongue in between lazy kisses. Scott winces in sympathy, circling his finger around skin and muscle more carefully, sucking on Jackson’s tongue to distract him.  
  
They could do this all night, they realize.  
  
\---  
  
Derek is cautious, quiet, when he returns to the back room. They don’t even notice him, though. Scott’s thighs box Jackson in as they kiss slowly, in sync beyond what Derek’s ever seen. Without words, Scott knows when Jackson’s turned his head for Scott to leave bites on his jaw and chin. Without more than a clench of fingers, or stroking of thumbs, Scott parts his lips and Jackson’s tongue slips inside easily.  
  
He realizes how wrong he’d been about Whittemore. If Matt was controlling him now, it would be the perfect moment to destroy Scott, but – but Jackson looks like the one at Scott’s mercy when he whimpers. Scott presses open-mouthed kisses on both shoulders, one hand hidden underneath his sweater. Derek watches with rapt attention, with longing, and even regret.  
  
Jackson could be pack, too. He _wants_ to be.   
  
There’s a way to approach this situation, and Derek now knows what it is. He strips off his shirt, watches them both as they untangle, gawking at Derek like they can’t decide whether fleeing or staying is the better decision. Derek reaches for his belt, slips it out with one pull, and lets it fall to the ground.   
  
Metal muffled by the warm rug.   
  
He closes his eyes and breathes in Scott’s arousal; it’s so strong he gets dizzy for a moment. The couch creaks when they shuffle around, and Derek opens his eyes to see them both shifted aside to make room for him. His pants pool around his feet, and he gasps when the assaulting odour of Jackson’s ‘abomination’ creeps in between his lips and settles in the back of his throat. No wonder Scott won’t let go.   
  
Settling his weight on the couch is a struggle because, this close, with these many pheromones swimming through the air, all Derek wants is to mount them both and claim them as his pack. But there’s something he needs to do first.   
  
Jackson flinches away when Derek comes closer, so Derek glances at Scott behind him, raises an eyebrow, and waits. Scott pats Jackson’s chest, pushing him forward slowly; Derek and Scott both remove his sweater and shirt, dropping them on the floor.  
  
Dipping his head, his gaze fixed on Jackson, Derek’s tongue darts out and traces the gash across his ribs, right below his right nipple. Right where his heart is pounding a foreign beat. Scott distracts him by murmuring in Jackson’s ear, nuzzling the back of his neck affectionately. Derek takes Jackson’s nipple in between his teeth, gnawing on it gently until it pebbles and screams for his attention. Jackson’s legs spread around Derek unconsciously, his throat bared for Scott’s ministration; he’s finally relaxed again. So he licks Jackson’s wounds, and they start to heal even faster because he’s the one who inflicted them.  
  
Scott’s hands move like lightning to Jackson’s pants; he’s so happy for this development, so glad his Alpha has accepted Jackson that he slides off the couch to let Derek take charge. He sits comfortably on the carpet next to the couch.  
  
There’s a slight whimper, a tiny squeak of protest when Derek drags Jackson’s pants all the way down. But it quickly turns into a hum of acceptance when Derek gets his hands on heated skin.  
  
“Do you want to be part of our pack,” Derek whispers, drawing faint red lines with half-changed claws across pale, spread thighs. “I want you to be aware this time of what you want.” He places a kiss in the crease of thigh and pelvis, watching as the bulge in Jackson’s pants twitches. “If you say yes, I _will_ kill your master. I’ll be your new one.”  
  
Jackson takes a deep breath when Derek cups his erection, and he nods. He sounds feverish, wild when he says, “This is what I’ve been waiting for.”  
  
Scott crawls behind Derek, nuzzling and kissing his neck, fingers delicate as they splay across his back. He purrs like a kitten, repeating softly _Thank you, Derek, thank you_. Humming in reply, Derek allows himself a rare smile at Scott’s easy forgiveness.   
  
Prying Jackson’s legs further apart, Derek sucks him into his mouth, luxuriating in the scent and feel of him when he isn’t fighting back or trying to cut with words. Scott joins in, kissing lazily up and down Jackson’s torso as he kneels on the floor along the side of the couch.  
  
Abomination or not, Derek has always liked how Jackson looks. Especially now that he has one hand tangled in Scott’s hair and the other gently scraping at Derek’s scalp, back arching off the couch. Derek teases with a hint of teeth right under the swollen head, and Jackson shouts _Fuck_ up at the ceiling, like he wants Heaven to know how good it feels.  
  
When Jackson’s spreading wider, his thighs trembling along to Derek’s eager pace, Derek pulls off his cock with a sloppy sound. Scott traces the shiny trail of saliva covering Jackson’s lips while looking into Derek’s eyes; he grins when he sees Derek moving back against the couch.  
  
“Hold him still,” Derek tells Scott, dragging Jackson’s hips closer and upward. “I don’t want him to hurt himself while he’s still healing.” He sucks on a finger, sliding it up and down the crease, smirking when Jackson gasps like the air’s been punched out of him.  
  
Scott cradles Jackson’s head with one arm, stroking through his now less-than-perfect hair with the other hand. As one finger eases into Jackson, Scott tells him he’s safe now, that he’ll be free soon; Jackson writhes and moans, biting Scott’s bottom lip when he tries to kiss him.  
  
Another finger pushes in, slow and careful, and Jackson wraps his thighs around Derek’s lower back, turning to face Scott. “Let me suck you, please. I can’t take this,” he says, a whine underlying every word. He heaves in a breath when a third finger breaches him. “ _Please_ ,” he says, brows creasing.  
  
Then Derek is rumbling with anticipating, pushing the head of his cock through the tight squeeze of Jackson’s body. Jackson claws desperately at Scott’s clothes, eyes rolling to the back of his head when Derek inches in further, lifting his hips. “Fuck,” they both say, and Scott rushes to get his own clothes off.  
  
When his cock springs free, Scott places it to Jackson’s lips, mesmerized by the pre-come coating the pink flesh. “Go slow,” he says, “you’re still weak.”  
  
Jackson nods, but he swallows Scott up to the base; he sounds rabid every time he gags, or Derek thrusts into him and brushes his prostate. Derek closes his eyes while he fucks Jackson; his balls slap against the loose entrance, leaving marks behind that are undeniably that of pack.   
  
Scott, on the other hand, is gentle; he doesn’t let Jackson suck him like he’s craving to. He controls the pace, although feeling less and less inclined to slow down.  He eases him off when Derek thrusts in just a bit harder, forcing Jackson to take in a lungful of air. But Jackson cries for more each time his mouth is free.  
  
When Jackson chokes on Scott’s cock, his breathing a broken mess of whimpers and words, Derek lessens his pace to drag out the last moments of pleasure. He rolls his hips in sensual circles, driving in slow, and Scott can’t help but reach over and cup his ass to feel the muscles clench with each push inside.  
  
Derek goes so slowly that Jackson is begging to be filled again; Scott pushes himself inside the willing mouth, groaning when Jackson’s teeth prickle and graze purposely over the sensitive gland. Somehow, Jackson meets every roll of Derek’s hips with a rougher one of his own, until Derek is growling out, “If this is what you want, then fine.”  
  
There’s thrusting, and there’s what Derek is doing – which is _impaling_ Jackson on his cock, lifting his hips off the couch to hit his prostate on every rough thrust. Scott is pushed away when he tries to wraps his hand around Jackson’s cock; Derek spits in his hand and does that, too. Just as rough and brutal as his fucking. Jackson’s mouth finds Scott’s cock, forcing it down his throat, mimicking Derek’s relentless pace.  
  
One tentative touch to Scott’s balls, and he’s spilling down Jackson’s throat, watching the muscles work around the load flowing down. One more possessive thrust and Derek pulls out, coming on Jackson’s stomach, marking him as part of his pack. Then, as Jackson pants, eyes watery with pleasure, Scott and Derek stroke and pull at his cock, sometimes easing in a finger to rub against his prostate; he screams so loud the Betas howl in the next room.  
  
Derek tucks himself back into his jeans, smiling as Jackson closes his eyes and drifts into sleep on the couch. He’s still a mess, but he knows Scott is more than willing to clean that up. Patting Scott on the shoulder, he says, “Make sure he gets enough rest. I need to get back to the Betas.”  
  
“I will,” he says. But he drags Derek in close, stealing a kiss before his Alpha can escape. “Thank you.”  
  
There’s nothing Derek can say that would compare to the gratitude plainly written on Scott’s features. He winks instead.  
  
\---  
  
From the other room, Isaac smiles as he hears the claiming happening. Erica and Boyd are too consumed by the sounds and smells to escape into the forest for a hunt; they fall asleep wrapped in each other’s warmth, letting Isaac crawl between them once they’re settled in. Derek joins them not much later.

**Author's Note:**

> comments appreciated. :)


End file.
